Four and One
by Bookworm45669
Summary: The four times someone told Molly Hooper that they were going to die, and the one time they were wrong. My first fanfiction, maybe has some triggers of suicide and bullying. Please R&R.


1

Molly Hooper got a bunny when she was seven. The bunny's name was Twitch. 'Because of the way she twitches her nose all the time', Molly had said.

Actually, she was named Twitch because she was thinking of how things twitch right before they die.

She was feeling particularly morbid that day.

Molly took care of Twitch. She fed her carrots and lettuce. She even sometimes let Twitch run around in her big brother's room.

She kept Twitch for two years.

And when she was nine, Twitch got sick. Her eyes were all puffy and her fur was all wrong.

Twitch died quickly. She wasn't put down.

And Molly always swore, that as she looked into her poor pet's eyes as her life faded away, Twitch told her something through her mind. When she was older, she'd think it was simply her imagination, but when she was little, she believed it with her whole heart.

She _knew _that Twitch screamed, _'I'm going to die.'_

2

Diana Lara Hooper was an interesting old lady. She was loving, caring, and nurturing. She was also strict, intimidating, and tough as nails.

She was a complicated old lady, indeed.

She knew she was old. She didn't accept the 'you look young' compliments that some people insisted on giving her. "I don't look _young. _I'm in my early eighties. Quit trying to kiss up and tell me what you did wrong."

She wasn't a stupid old lady, either.

And she worried constantly for her only granddaughter. The youngest, and the most troubling.

Why was she troubling? No one could really tell from a glance. From a glance, she seemed a sweet, doe-eyed, naive, innocent girl, playing with sticks and reading books in the backyard. Look just a little harder, and you might see that she's not playing with sticks. Look a bit harder than that, and you'll understand why she's so troubling.

She's not playing with sticks. She's playing with a knife. And she's dissecting a dead bird.

If you ask Diana Lara Hooper who her favorite grandchild was, she'd say, "Tim."

She'd never tell you that she truly favored the little naive girl who was smart enough to learn to dissect things all on her own.

And, when Diana Lara Hooper got cancer, she decided to say goodbye.

She told Tim that when he went on his first date, to be polite and offer the upper hand every time. Girls always have the upper hand anyway, and they think it's sweet. She sent him away.

She told her son, Martin, to get himself a 'Keep Calm, I'm the Doctor' mug when she died.

She told her daughter-in-law, Louise, to take care of her family.

And to sweet little Molly, she said, "Molly, my darling. You're such a sweet girl. Listen carefully, little one. I want my last words to be useful." And Molly listened.  
"One day, your mother will have a bad day. And she'll yell and scream at you, maybe she'll even hit you. She'll ask why you're such a freak, why you're such a screw-up. She'll scream, 'why are you such a disappointment?! Why can't you just be normal instead of picking around dead things all the time?!' and other questions like that that you can't answer. When she does, remember me. Remember this conversation. The questions she'll ask are ones that no one can answer, because it's simply the way you were born.

"Don't get angry at your mother. She will have had a horrible day. It won't be you that she's truly angry at. She'll just be angry at many things that cannot be changed. Never doubt yourself, my child. You are an exception to every rule and stereotype, and some people will just be angry that your existence has forced them to reconsider everything they know."

Diana smiled then. "Be proud of that."

Molly asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

Diana replied with, "Because, Molly. I'm going to die. There's nothing to stop it. I know this. And because I'm half-psychic. I know these things, and I want to help you with everything you'll have to face. I can see that you'll be very good at your job, and you'll be proud of it. You'll have a hopeless crush on a hopeless man. Molly, no matter what this man does, he will never be worth it. And you won't care that he doesn't deserve you. You'll love him all the same."

Diana ushered her out.

Two hours later, Diana hung herself with the sheets.

Years later, Molly will look back on this conversation and sadly smile. Granny was right about everything.

3

When Molly was 14, she was very, very nervous about going to high school. Her older brother, Tim, was very, very nervous about going to school at all.

Tim was bullied very intensely, being shoved everywhere, being called a freak all the time, and being kicked nearly senseless after school.

Molly knew that he was bullied. It would have taken an idiot not to see the tall, skinny kid in 11th grade face down on the floor of the hallway, trying desperately not to cry as he is kicked repeatedly.

Molly tried to stand up for her brother sometimes.

She went home with a bruised eye and seriously damaged confidence those days.

She also went home with some self-pride. Because even though she might be ugly or fat, she was smart, and selfless. And standing up proved that.

She wasn't ugly _or _fat, anyway. But she didn't think that.

On December 27th, Tim Hooper hung himself on the ceiling with a rope. To this day, no one knows where he got the rope from. He left several notes:

_Dear Family,_

_I'm sorry I'm such a screw-up. _

_Dear Mum and Dad:_

_I'm sorry. I'm your oldest child. As Theoden from LotR said once, 'No parent should have to bury their child.' I'm sorry to do this to you, and everyone else who really matters, but I'm just not strong enough to keep on living when everyone at school treats me like crap. Maybe I am crap. I can never know.  
And, as Queen said(or rather, sung), 'Mama, didn't mean to make you cry. If I'm not back again this time tomorrow, carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters.'_

_-Tim_

_Dear Molly:_

_I'm sorry. I'm so so so so so sorry. I can't even begin to describe how sorry I am for making you go through this. You're the best little sister I could ever wish for in the entire world. Don't ever ever ever believe those bastards when they tell you that you're ugly or fat. You're beautiful, and anyone who ever says otherwise is either lying because they're jealous, attempting to cover up their crush, or simply doesn't deserve to be in the presence of a smart, pretty girl like you. You are the smartest and most interesting person I've ever had the pleasure to meet. If you weren't my little sister, I'd probably have a crush on you.  
Sorry to wait until just after Christmas, when you should be having the time of your life reading. I can't wait any longer, I don't want to live, and I wanted to taste some of Mum's famous holiday cookies before I died.  
Be what you want to be. Be a pathologist, like I know you want to. You'll be brilliant at it. You've had a twelve-year head-start on the rest of those brain-dead dicks.  
Molly, I'm going to die. I want to die. I just wish I could go without causing you so much pain. _

_-Tim_

Molly cried for six hours straight after that. She kept the note.

4

After Tim's death, Molly decided to honor him. So, every year on December 27th, she would write him a letter, copy it, and then burn the copy. She said that it was because the ancient Greeks would burn offerings to the gods to appease them. She hoped that Tim could read every copy.

When she was 15, she wrote the following:

_Dear Tim,_

_I hope you're not bullied up there. Or wherever you are. I don't think I believe in God anymore. If God were real, he wouldn't allow this kind of stuff to happen, right?  
I think so.  
Mum's falling into depression. For the first year after you flew away, it was normal, because she was grieving. But now, she's just depressed.  
I'm scared, Tim. I don't know how to help her. I wish you were here, so we could both be afraid for her together. Now, it's just me and Dad. And you know how Dad works a lot. He's trying really hard to help Mum. I should too, but I don't know what to do.  
I met a guy. And whatever you're thinking when you read that last sentence, you're wrong. He's brilliant, and amazing, and really good-looking. He's also an arrogant, clever, manipulating bastard. He's also utterly and brilliantly insane.  
I'm also pretty sure he does drugs.  
He flirts with me to get the things he needs, and he doesn't really give a shit about how I feel. That might be the drugs though. Yes, I was serious when I said he's probably on drugs.  
He can tell me practically everything about me from the stain on my shirt or papers on my desk. He didn't get everything right, but they were only small details.  
Dammit, I have a crush on a bastard. I promised you once that I'd never allow that to happen, didn't I?  
But, then again, promises were made to be broken.  
This guy has the most odd name in the history of names. Sherlock Holmes. I mean, what kind of a parent would call their kid Sherlock?! Did they _want _him to be bullied?  
Sorry, that was uncalled for. But seriously.  
I hope you're enjoying yourself, Tim, wherever you are._

_-Molly_

She made a copy of that and burned it. She then put the original in a wooden box that her deceased Granny gave her when she was five. Maybe Granny could see the letters too. Maybe Granny was smiling to herself, because she was _right. _

The day after the letter was burned, her father got a gunshot to the shoulder. Some guy broke into the grocery store and was threatening everyone in there with a gun while he took the money and a box of cookies.

Her father stood up. And then he fell back down.

The paramedics got there, and they got the bullet out and everything, but the wound got infected and they couldn't afford to have their father sit in a hospital for a month.

So, they knew he would die.

Before he died, he called Molly into his room. The room in which he had decided to die.

And, though he was cheerful and lovely, when she saw him before he saw her, he looked sad.

When he saw her, he smiled and said, "Molly, I'm so sorry for doing this to you. You've endured twice the amount of heartbreak and pain that I could have." Her father took her hand. "Molly, no matter what anyone says, you are beautiful. You are loving, and beautiful, and intelligent, and tough as nails. Who needs fashionable accessories when you have a college degree?" They both sadly laughed.

"Molly, I'm going to die. And there's no force that can stop it. I want you to endure, my gorgeous girl. Take care of your mother. And, for God's sake, drop the crush. Become anything you want to be. Because I know you can do it."

Molly left the room, and allowed her mother to go in.

The look of sadness on her father's face would haunt her for years.

One

She was leaving the morgue, not really paying attention to her surroundings as she flicked off the lights, thinking about her brother.

"You were wrong, you know."

The familiar baritone ripped her out of her admittedly morbid thoughts and took her by surprise, making her jump and gasp.

"You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you."

She felt her heart melt.

"But you were right. I'm not okay."

Holy shit. _Holy shit. _Is it even possible for a heart to turn to butter this much from four sentences?

Of course it is. He's Sherlock bloody Holmes.

"Tell me what's wrong." She replied, determined to help him. A body wouldn't require this much, and he knew it. He needed help with something much more important.

"If I wasn't everything you think I am, everything _I _think I am, would you still want to help me?"

She wanted to yell, _of course, you bloody idiot!_ But, to her credit, she refrained. Instead, she replied with, "What do you need?"

"Molly, I think I'm going to die."

And, with that one sentence, he unknowingly sealed her help. Because it would help her know that she saved a million lives, and it was all because he said, 'Molly, I think I'm going to die.' Because, with that, she not only saw Sherlock standing there, eyes pleading(though that might be acting, you could never tell with him because he's such a good actor). She saw Tim and Granny and Dad and even Twitch. And, by god, she would do everything in her power to help them.

"What do you _need?"_

And this next sentence gave her the closure she's wanted for years. It's not even a sentence. It's a word.

"_You."_

**AN: Well, that was depressing. **

**This is my first fanfiction ever posted, so please, please, please review. I really want to know if I'm rubbish at this or not. **

**Goodbye!**

**-Bookie**


End file.
